Red Snow
by AmityOfArt
Summary: Jeff started to thrust his knife down, but a shot of something white struck his hand and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Eyes wide, he cradled his hand and tried to pry the stuff that had encased it away. What was it? It was cold like… like… ice. (Rated T for gore) *my first fanfic*
1. Snowballs and Not-So-Fun Times

** Hey guys! Guess what? I found an old story on my laptop and decided to upload it! Yay! I touched it up a bit and although I know it's not perfect, I don't think it's… **_**that**_** bad… I don't know, I'll let you decide for yourself, but please. This is my first story (and I had some technical difficulty at the beginning) and I have no experience with flames, but please: bite your tongue and restrain yourself, children. I appreciate constructive criticism, but unhappy comments will get me and you nowhere. That said, I would LOVE some reviews! So if you're feeling nice… Just pop a smiley face down there! That's all I'm asking for: a smiley. Alrighty, guys, ENJOY!**

**Oh, and: *I don't own Jack Frost (Dreamworks) or Jeff the Killer (I'm honestly not sure, but I can certainly tell you I don't have a mind _quite_ twisted enough to think up something like that)***

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Jack Frost grinned as he hurled another snowball at Jamie Bennett, who took it square in the forehead, and dramatically fell down onto his back with an _oof_ into the snow of his front yard. Jack burst into laughter, leaning his hands on his knees for support.

Jamie's face flushed red a little and he bent down, balling a snowball into his hands, and thrust it at Jack, but it fell short, causing Jack to laugh even harder and fall into the snow himself.

"Nice fail," he chuckled, but before he knew it, Jamie was on top of him and trying to stuff snow down his hoodie.

Jack smirked and pulled Jamie's hat off, stuffing it with snow, but before Jack could give his ten-year-old best friend the snow-beating of his life, a girl walked into the road from across the road and called to them. "Jamie!"

Jamie looked up and smiled. "Oh, hey, Pippa," he greeted, standing up. "What's wrong?"

Pippa frowned and pulled at her purple nightgown. "I thought I heard you guys out here." She glanced at Jack and said, "Hi, Jack," with a small smile.

Jack stood up and the boys met the young girl at the sidewalk. Jack grinned and playfully nuggied her head. "What's up with interrupting our game, Lil' Lady?"

Pippa backed away and smoothed her red bob, still frowning despite Jack's efforts. Jack's smile faded. Was something actually wrong or did they just catch her in a bad mood?

Pippa crossed her arms over her chest and motioned to Jamie's house. "Why aren't you guys inside? There's a curfew, remember?"

Jamie blinked and checked the orange and purple sky above his head. He bit his bottom lip. "Yeah, I did forget…," he mumbled. He gave Pippa a smile, saying, "Thanks, but you didn't have to walk out in your P.J.s for us, you know."

Pippa shrugged. "I just don't want to see you dead in your front yard," she said with an uncomfortable laugh.

Jack's brow knit together. "Whoa, wait. What do you mean "dead"?" he asked, stepping into their conversation.

Jamie turned his head to Jack. "An entire family was murdered, like, last week sometime and the killer's led a trail coming towards us, so they put a curfew on Burgess for safety," he explained. "Everyone has to be inside by 7:00." Jamie smiled at Pippa, and added, "Pippa was just making sure that, well, we didn't get murdered, I guess."

Pippa nodded, blushing. "I, um, think I'm gonna go back inside now… It's, uh… cold…" She quickly started walking back to her house, then turned back with a wave. "Bye, guys!" she called.

Jack and Jamie watched her walk back inside before Jack grinned and nudged Jamie. "She likes you."

Jamie's eyes grew wide and he blushed. "No she doesn't! She… she just wanted to make sure we were okay!"

"Because she likes you," he smirked.

Jamie groaned and trudged back through his snow-covered yard to his house, a mocking Jack following close behind.

A rush of warm air and light greeted them when they walked through the front door, and Jamie went straight to the pantry and pulled out two packets of instant hot-chocolate.

"Hey, you wanna turn on the news for me?" Jamie asked Jack as he dumped the packets' insides into two glass mugs.

Jack, earning an eye roll from Jamie, awkwardly floated/dragged himself to the living room's TV set using his staff as one leg, and pushed the power button where it flickered to life. The screen showed an attractive, female reporter sitting at her usual news desk with text below her that read: "OMINOUS UNKNOWN KILLER IS STILL AT LARGE."

Jack scowled. "Come on, you don't want to watch this," he groaned, pointing at the TV with his Shepherd's Crook. "This is boring. Let's watch SpongeBob or something instead."

Jamie stuck the two mugs into the microwave for two minutes. "No, I want to watch this."

Jack groaned even louder. "Whhhhhhyyyyyyyy? The news is so… boring!" he complained, wrinkling his nose.

Jamie rolled his eyes. "Whether or not you care, I want to know everything I can about this killer so I can- oh, I don't know- _survive_?"

Jack mimicked Jamie's voice eight octaves too high and rolled his eyes, but slumped onto the couch to watch the broadcast anyway.

It honestly wasn't very boring, where it mostly consisted of an interview with a young boy who apparently survived an attack from the alleged killer. "He said, "Go to sleep", and I screamed. That's what sent him at me," the boy explained, tears streaming down his face. "He pulled out a knife, aiming for my heart and… a-and lunged at me." The boy put his face in his hands and sobbed loudly.

Jack cringed at the boy's depressed actions. It was his job to make sure kids stayed happy with a fun childhood; he didn't like hearing about when their lives weren't.

"You sure you want to watch this? 'Cause I'm still up for SpongeBob, if you are," Jack told Jamie without taking his eyes from the screen.

"Yup. I haven't really sat down and watched any of this, and I want to see if… Ooh! Hey, it's coming on!" he cheered, taking a small sip of his hot chocolate.

The screen was back on the news lady while the boy's interview was minimized to the top right corner. "This just in," the lady announced. "A person fitting the description of the still-at-large killer was sighted in downtown Burgess today, so make sure to lock your doors tonight, audience; it'll be a rough one. This has been your evening news, and stayed tuned for a new episode of…"

The reporter's voice seemed to fade away and Jamie's face lost all of its color. "My mom won't get home until later and Sophie's at a friend's house… I… I'm all alone tonight…" he murmured to himself.

Jack and Jamie were both silent for a few minutes, the only sound being the occasional slurp from Jack's hot chocolate mug. Jack finally broke the silence, using his staff to help him stand up. "Hey, don't worry about it. What are the chances that he's going to show up at your house tonight, huh?" Jack encouraged, putting down his now-empty mug. "You are one house, out of one neighborhood, out of God knows how many in Burgess, right? What are the chances that, if he even goes to a house tonight, that it's going to be yours?"

Jamie's face lifted up. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Then they both went back to watching the news, which wasn't actually the news anymore but a few new episodes of "What Would You Do?" but Jack's mind stayed on the killer. There was something unnerving about this guy to Jack, however. He couldn't place what it was, but he didn't want to tell Jamie; he was already really freaked out.

After a while, Jamie yawned and checked the living room's wall clock: 8:34. Had they really watched TV for over an hour and a half without noticing?

He yawned again, and Jack chuckled. "Sounds like someone needs to go to bed."

Jamie blinked heavily. "Yeah, I probably should… I've got school tomorrow…"

Jack grinned. "Not if I have anything to say about it, you won't," Jack boasted, playing with a snowflake between his fingers.

Jamie laughed, but it was interrupted by another long yawn. He sighed and curled up on the couch.

"Oh no, you don't," Jack said, pulling him back up by his arm. "Come on, let's go upstairs, Kiddo."

Jamie, eyes closed, nodded and started to shuffle up the stairs, Jack flying ahead with his Shepherd's Crook in tow.

Not bothering to change into his P.J.s, Jamie climbed into his bed, jeans and all, once they got up to his room, immediately closing his eyes.

Jack grinned and turned off the lights, slowly shutting the door while singing in the creepiest voice he could muster:

"Relax and close your eyes,

Don't say a peep,

Or else a killer's gonna come and say,

"GO TO SLEEP"."

Jamie, eyes still closed, furrowed his brow, muttering, "You're… a butt… Jack…" As soon as he finished talking, his soft snores could be heard even from the doorway and Jack chuckled, closing the door all the way.

He sighed and went to Sophie's room through her window, and then out into the black night sky. He smiled and closed his eyes, loving the brisk, cold air rushing past his face. Anyone would think that after flying for over three hundred years, he'd get tired of the familiar feeling of the wind through his bright, white hair, but those people are dumb. Why would he ever get tired of it? He was _flying_! No one else in the world could do that!

…Well, except for Tooth, Sandy, and North, if you count the sleigh.

Jack grinned even wider and flew faster, the heavying pressure of going against the wind pushing against his skinny body. He was picking up more and more speed before something made him falter.

Jack suddenly opened his eyes. What… what was that? Still flying, he bent his head towards his body, looking back at his blue hoodie just in time to see something wooly-looking and white fall from his pocket and get carried away by the wind.

It took Jack a moment to realize that it was Jamie's hat. He must've stuffed it into his pocket when Pippa showed up, when he was going to shove the snow into his hat then on his head back at the snowball fight.

He immediately zoomed back down and caught the free-falling trapper hat, then tucked it safely back into his hoodie pocket, careful to make sure that it wouldn't fall out this time. He sighed, looking back at the small dots of light that were Burgess, realizing he would have to fly all the way back at a slower speed, therefore taking more time, and… Ah, who cares? He'll just hold onto it tightly.

With that, he flew off back into the night sky.

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** So what did you guys think? Complaints, comments, critiques? Let me know in the Reviews! I'll try to update by next week at the latest, so stay tuned! **

** Oh, and one more thing: if you have any questions, you can also ask me in the Reviews or PM me; I'll respond to any of them right here where I'm typing (or PM you back if you PM'ed me first). **

**Goodbye for now, my friends!**


	2. Five Minute Intruder

**Hello again, Madams and Misters of the world! How you all doing? Oh? What's that? I can't hear you BECAUSE NO ONE IS TALKING TO ME! Come on, you guys! Where are those reviews? I need **_**some**_** form of human contact on here! Given, it's only been about a week, but it's still nice to know that someone out there cares… *sniff* … And who knows? Maybe no one really has read this, but if you're reading this right now and, let's say, concerned that this might be my last update (I highly doubt anyone cares, but **_**I **_**do). Fear not, dear person, because I've already typed out everything to the ending (and a bonus chapter) and, if you read my profile, you'd know, that I will do my absolute best to be consistent in my updates and such. **

**One other thing I noticed from the last chapter: I think I credited Jeff the Killer to the wrong person. I apologize for the mix-up, and I apologize again because I have no idea who this gloriously freaky character belongs to. So, Jeff the Killer belongs to whoever owns Jeff the Killer. If you want to leave in the REVIEWS the correct ownership, I'll correct myself for a second time on the update next Friday or Saturday. **

**Oh, and speaking of Jeff, if you haven't read his Creepypasta yet, I suggest you do before continuing on through this chapter.**

**Congrats on making it to the end of this ridiculously long author's note! Now here's chapter two.**

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Jeffrey Woods pressed himself against the red-paneled wall of the house, his ragged breathing and the crickets' songs the only thing echoing through the night… oh, except for the sirens, that is.

Their deafening sound and the red and blue lights were right there, almost twenty feet away from him, at best; why couldn't they just _go away_? He'd made his family go away… but he had to… He didn't want to think about that right now, though.

He pulled his white hood over his head and adjusted his long, black hair so it shaded his face. In the past two weeks, Jeff had noticed that a lot of people liked his face; he always caught them staring at it. Jeff loved his face, and apparently, so did everyone else. But… he also knew that some other people didn't though…

_Why do you care what other people think?_ A voice in the back of his head sneered. _Let them be scared. Maybe it'll save them. From you. Fear's important. It saves lives._

Jeff scowled. He didn't like that voice, but it had a point. Half of him loved his new-found feeling of that final moment when you stand over your victim and that pleasurable power of being above somebody seems to take over your mind and wrap itself around you like a blanket. But the other half, the half that still believed it was possible to go back home and play with his Nerf gun in the backyard with Liu, didn't like what he'd become and seemed to try to break free at every chance it got. Jeff hated that half more than he did the murderous one.

He knew that Liu was gone, and he knew that _he_ was gone, too. He could never go back.

The sirens and lights faded, and Jeff poked his mutilated head out from the side of the house. He needed a shelter. Just for tonight, then he'd be gone again before the sun came up in the morning. Maybe… Maybe he could just sleep in the bushes tonight, right?

Oh, who was he kidding? It was hard enough to sleep without eyelids; he would never get to sleep outside on the hard, snow-covered ground. Maybe he should just keep moving on to the next town and he'd sleep tomorrow night.

He shook his head. No, he needed sleep. He hadn't gotten more than a few minutes of rest total in the past week. His body would start to shut down soon, if he didn't. He really needed a place to stay, but where?

He paused, mentally face-palming himself, and stood to look back up at the house he was leaning against. He smiled. Perfect. It didn't have a car in the driveway or a light on in the house. He'd do a double check once he was inside, but it'd have to do.

Checking the road again for police, Jeff stalked up to the front porch. He bent down and checked all of the most common places people hid their keys: under the mat, in the flower pots, under the door, etc. He found theirs under the chair that sat on the porch. Smart people.

It took him several attempts to push the key into the lock because his hands were shaking so hard. Why were they shaking so hard? Probably because he was nervous, but why was he nervous? He'd broken into houses before- almost five times this week alone- so why were his hands shaking like an old man's?

_It's because you're still a kid,_ the voice whispered. _Face it: you're a thirteen-year-old acting like a grown adult, who's killing people, on top of that. You'll still be a nervous, little kid, no matter how much older you may act._

His left eye and hand twitched. "I_… am not… _a_ kid_," he snarled to himself. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his knife, about to tear up the front door with stabs and scratches, before he stopped himself. That was dumb. That was _incredibly_ and _stupidly_ dumb. If there was anyone inside, they'd definitely hear that someone was their door, and they'd call the police and he'd be busted, condemned to a life in prison, or worse: a mental asylum. Jeff shivered at the thought.

No, he can't let that happen. He couldn't lower himself to the standards of a simple criminal. He was Jeff the Killer! He was the boy who cut off half his face – to which, he saw no problem with that – and killed his entire family in less than ten minutes. He was better than that.

Jeff quietly opened the door, careful to make sure it didn't creak, and closed and locked it back up without a sound. Jeff's already smiling face smiled even wider. It didn't look like anyone was home. It was about 9:00. Only, like, ten-year-olds go to bed at 9:00.

Creeping up the stairs, Jeff inspected the photos on the wall as he went up them. It looked like the family here consisted of a young, brown-haired boy, an even younger, messy, blonde girl, and a short-haired, brunette mother. No father, though. Probably a divorce. It was rare that a split was ever because of death, anymore. How sad… Maybe he could help that rate go up a little. Jeff smiled wickedly at the thought.

Once upstairs, Jeff started checking the rooms for people. The master bedroom was empty, along with what he assumed was the girl's room, the half-bathroom, and the guest room. Now all that was left was one last room, and then he'd be home free.

Jeff cracked open the door and was immediately greeted by the yellow-orangish glow of a night light and the soft snores of the boy who was sleeping peacefully in his bed. Jeff cursed under his breath. He had been so close, _so close_, to not having to kill anyone tonight… But oh well. It couldn't be helped now.

Jeff lurked over to the side of the bed, his knife raised above his head, and set his sights on the boy's throat, aiming for a quick slice to the throat. Hopefully it would be painless; that was all he could ask for. The boy would be easy, being asleep and all, but Jeff hesitated.

Did he really have to end this boy's life? So far, the people Jeff had killed, other than his family, was a woman who'd seen his face and started to freak out, a gas station cashier, and a really, _really_ annoying man at a bus stop who just _would not_ stop talking to him. But the point is that all these people had been older, but this boy was so young… Had so much to live for…

But Jeff suddenly hardened and a shadow crossed his face. He was young once. He'd had a lot to live for, too, but then Randy and his dumb buddies showed up, ruining everything…They were the ones that killed his family, not him. They were the ones who've made him this way, not him. And they were the ones who were about to kill this boy, not him.

Raising the knife above his head again, Jeff readied himself. The lightheadedness of power swept over him, and he grinned wide, revealing the slits in his cheeks. This was always his favorite part.

Jeff started to thrust his knife down, but a shot of something white struck his hand and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Eyes wide, he cradled his hand and tried to pry the stuff that had encased it away. What was it? It was cold like… like… ice.

Jeff looked up to find that golden light was spilling in from the hallway. He narrowed his eyes as best he could without eyelids. He was certain he'd left the hallway light off.

He flexed his hand until most of the "ice" fell off, and he gripped his knife in his hand again. Quietly stepping away from the bed, leaving the boy, Jeff noticed a white-wooled trapper hat on the floor.

Jeff picked up the hat, inspected it, and then set it on the boy's desk he had in his room. That was it. He knew that hat hadn't been there when he came in. Someone was messing with him, baiting him to come out into the hallway.

Even though Jeff was pretty sure it was trap, he stepped out into the hallway anyway, but found no one was there. He scanned the upstairs surroundings, and when finding nothing else out of the ordinary, Jeff decided to make a break for it and head downstairs. He'd find somewhere else to hide that night.

Bad move on his part, because as soon as his foot hit the first step, it seemed like an invisible force picked him up, carried him down the rest of the stairs, opened the front door, and threw him out into the cold snow, the cold, winter air biting any exposed skin.

Dazed, Jeff stayed down in the snow until he could gather his bearings. He wasn't much for ghosts and such, but he sure couldn't think of any other explanation.

Jeff sat up and put his wrist to his forehead. The sound of the front door of the house slamming made his head snap back up. He couldn't see anything or anyone who could've shut it, but he knew something had to, and Jeff was back up in seconds, holding his knife out in front of him.

"Show yourself, Coward," Jeff growled, his unblinking eyes searching every nook and cranny around him for his unknown enemy.

Jeff's eyes widened when he was suddenly picked up and off the ground by the collar of his hoodie. "Who are you?" a male's voice demanded.

Jeff smirked in the shadow his hood threw over his face. "I should be asking the same of you," he retorted, unfazed by the fact that he was responding to only a voice; he'd done it before.

He heard the voice scoff and adjust his hold on his collar. "You'd have to believe in me to be able to hear me, Dimwit," it sneered.

Jeff frowned as much as he physically could, due to the scars running up his cheeks, and ran threw his mind about what the voice could mean. "What the… Believe in you?" he murmured, shaking his head. Most of the time when the voices spoke, they made sense to him.

The voice held him up higher in the air. "My name… is Jack Frost."

It took a moment for it register in his head, but then, like a bullet, childhood memories started to flood back to Jeff: Him and Liu curled up with their mother as she told them stories of a boy who could control the winter weather. And on a snow day, screaming with Liu up to the sky, or "Jack Frost", thanks for a day off of school. Jeff even remembered a fifth grade paper where he had to research American folklore, and he chose Jack Frost.

And with the flooding of memories came the flooding of imagery. With a strange purple light, a teenage boy appeared in front of him, revealing himself to be the one holding him up by his hoodie's collar. Jeff's eyes widened. This was going against everything he knew about his childhood and his sense of logic. People didn't just… just _appear_; they had to come from somewhere, but Jack Frost… Jack Frost didn't exist, but if he did, this kid sure fit the description.

His white hair looked messy and wind blown, and the boy's blue hoodie and torn, brown pants were sprinkled with snow and frost, along with pale skin that was just a few shades darker than Jeff's. His brow furrowed slightly at the Shepherd's Crook in the boy's other hand, but the thing that stuck to Jeff was his hard facial features. Give him blonde hair and green eyes and he could be Liu's twin… if he were given the chance to grow up, that is.

The boy's cold, blue eyes bore into Jeff's and Jeff, for once since the birthday party, was caught off guard.

With a flicker of what was a mix of horror and awe, Jeff asked, more to himself than the boy, "What _are_ you?"

The boy's eyes hardened and with a gruff voice, he answered: "I'm a Guardian." He then brought back his pale fist and swung it forward, connecting it with Jeff's face, and his world went black.

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**Okay, you guys; now I'm serious. Please. Leave. A. Review. The silence hurts. Really, it does. Just a smiley face is all I'm asking for... Or frowny face, depending on your opinion of the story, I guess... Please no frowny faces... :-(**

**Again, I'll update around next Friday/ Saturday-ish, so... yeah. Happy Friday you guys, and don't forget to be AWESOME**


	3. Knife Fights and Breath Mints

**привет, my friends! (For those of you who don't know, that's "hello" in Russian [sounds like "privet"]) Sorry I didn't update yesterday; wasn't really feeling any motivation *points to review box*. And I get it; I won't bug you guys about reviews anymore. Though it would be nice, I understand you have better things to do than encourage lil' ol' me. I'll write for me, and for me, I shall write... Not you punks.**

**So! In other news, things like updating a day late may become more frequent. You know exams and stuff (yes, I am a nerd, and yes, I do study for that stuff). So, life may or may not happen, but I'll try to the best of my ability to keep you non-existent fans updated.**

**Oh, and I updated my pen name from ArtsyNerdGirl (so unoriginal) to AmityofArt, so if you're having trouble finding this -though I highly doubt you will-, that may be why.**

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Jack felt sick. Even after he'd given Jamie that pep talk about "there's no way he'll show up at your doorstep," when truly, he should've stayed with him for extra protection. If he'd been even a minute later… He shook his head. He felt like he was going to throw up.

He studied the person who'd landed face down in the snow. The black pants and Converse shoes weren't particularly out of place, but personally, if Jack was ever going to become a criminal and be on the run all the time, he'd probably wear something more… lurkable… than a bright white sweatshirt.

The almost-killer wasn't very tall, though. Jack assumed that this was the guy the news was talking about, but he'd watched the broadcast, he'd imagined the killer to be… taller. This guy was only about a foot and half taller than Jamie, a ten-year-old.

If Jack honestly wanted to believe it, this guy could be kid, but kids didn't go on full-out killing sprees, right? Not any that he knew of, at least.

Jack stood there a minute, trying to decide what to do. Jack could hear him breathing deeply, and he guessed that he'd knocked him out. He smiled inwardly to himself and that last thought.

Finally deciding to leave the killer in a place where the cops and others could easily find him, Jack stopped himself before trying to pick up the guy. Though he really, _really_ didn't want to, Jack knew he probably needed to stay with him to make sure that he didn't get away. Jack groaned and rubbed the side of his jaw. Maybe with luck, he'd sleep through the night. He certainly hoped so.

Jack bent down and pulled the unconscious killer up by the arm. Jack grunted. Dang, he was heavy. Pinching his eyes shut, Jack pulled harder and manage to drag him about ten feet through the snow until he had to stop again, panting. _How_ had he practically flown him down the stairs?

He stopped and stood back upright, stretching a little. Jack glanced down at the hooded figure and furrowed his brow. The only thing Jack could see from that hood was a mess of black hair which now had snow sprinkled in it. While pulling him, he must've flipped him over partially on his side, but it was still amazing how well that hood of his hid his face from view.

Jack bit his lip. No, he knew he shouldn't… but at the same time, he had to. He bent down and ripped off his hood... then stumbled back, gagging. His hot chocolate from earlier gurgled back into his mouth and with hesitation, Jack swallowed it back down with disgust.

His face… Oh man, his face… What had _happened_ to him? Or, it... Jack wasn't even sure anymore if this… this _thing…_ was even human.

He was exactly how the kid on the TV had described: ghost-like, pale skin that was even paler than Jack's – and _that's_ saying something- and open eyes that were almost popping out of his skull. They were ringed in what looked like black, scorched flesh, if Jack had ever seen it before. The worst thing, though, was his mouth, which had been cut, like with a knife, at the corners of his mouth, through his cheeks, and almost reaching his ears. Even though Jack knew that he was still knocked out –his eyes watched the sky blankly and soft snores were escaping his mouth- and it looked like, even with an expressionless face, that he was smiling at Jack.

Though the permanent smile and lidless eyes were extremely disturbing, Jack, being around children his entire life, could make out the roundish features that kids tend to have. That on top of his short stature, Jack realized that this thing, this horribly, messed-up thing… it really was just a kid.

Oh man… Jack really was going to be sick. A mix between a ragged gasp and a gag escaped Jack's mouth. Maybe it was a little too loud, because just then, the killer's unblinking eyes suddenly snapped to Jack.

They both stared at each other for a moment of silence before the white-faced kid lunged at Jack, knocking them both to the ground. He grabbed for Jack's throat, but Jack, with a grunt, pushed him away before he could get a good hold on him.

Jack was back up on his feet in seconds, backing away a few feet to give him some space between himself and that monster.

The kid's already smiling face smiled even wider when he pulled a knife from his hoodie's pocket. The sight of it made Jack's heart drop. Why hadn't he remembered to take that away from him?! Jack's stomach lurched when he saw a burgundy color smeared all over the blade. That knife had been used before.

Jack's grip on his staff grew tighter, but then the kid flung himself at Jack's feet, trying to take them out, but Jack swiftly pushed himself into the air and into a nearby tree, but he'd accidentally lost his Shepherd's Crook on the way up.

Breathing heavily, Jack glanced down at the ground and cursed when he saw his power source lying next to where the killer was standing, watching him.

The kid's bulging eyes widened even more at the sight of Jack's ability, but he quickly recovered and started climbing up the tree Jack was in, branch by branch.

Pushing himself up another branch, Jack called down, "You don't really have a sense of personal space, do you?"

He watched as the white-faced kid, unfazed by his light-hearted comment, continued to climb faster and faster up the tree until he was only about three feet away from him. The killer swung his knife at Jack's leg and snagged him a little on his shin.

The cut wasn't bad, but Jack's heart was beating faster than it should. With a terror-struck voice, Jack stuttered, "Wh-what are you? Some kind of Nightmare?" But he didn't think even Pitch Black could come up with something this awful.

The killer smiled wider. "You could say that," he responded, and swung his knife again at Jack.

Jack dodged it and jumped from the tree back to the ground, only five feet away from his Shepherd's Crook. He reached to pick it up, but was stopped short when the kid, who'd jumped from the tree, landed on top of him with crushing force. Jack landed belly-down in the snow, and, abandoning his Shepherd's Crook which was still out of reach, hastily turned onto his back, only to have the kid pin his wrists down with his knees.

His eyes wild, the kid grinned. "I don't think I introduced myself to you, Jack Frost," he said, smiling maniacally. "My name is Jeff Woo-"

"You're the kid who killed his family, aren't you?" Jack demanded, not even allowing the kid, "Jeff", to finish his name. "You're the killer from the news."

Jeff laughed in spite of him. "Really? What gave it away? The bloody knife or deranged smile?" he said, grinning widely and revealing his teeth. Jack grimaced at the sight; Tooth would have a field day.

In a burst of strength, Jack shoved his leg into Jeff's hand and knocked the knife away. Jeff started to grab for it, but paused and brought his hands around Jack's neck instead. Jack's eyes widened and he struggled, trying to pry Jeff's fingers away from him, but Jeff had too good of a hold on him.

Jeff leaned his face closer to Jack's and he squirmed, able to turn his face away a little. "You… really… need a… breath mint…" Jack grunted, trying to push Jeff's face away.

His white face scrunched up in confusion, probably at Jack's ability to talk, even while being strangled, but Jack _technically_ didn't need to breathe; he couldn't die, anyways.

Jeff's left eye twitched and he pressed down harder on Jack's Adam's apple. Jack tried again to pry Jeff's fingers away, but they wouldn't budge. His neck was really starting to hurt, though.

Jack growled and spit into the killer's lidless eyes, causing him to scream in pain and jump off of Jack, viciously swiping at his face. Jack took the opportunity to grab his staff and he pointed it at Jeff, who now had tears streaming down his face as he wiped at it with his sleeves.

Starting to gather energy, Jack aimed his Shepherd's Crook at Jeff's heart, but he hesitated. It was his job to protect the children of the world, not end them... No matter how far down on North's Naughty list they are.

He lowered his staff a few degrees and a shot of ice burst from it, giving Jeff just enough time to look up and watch the shot hit him in the stomach, sending him flying backwards against a tree.

Jeff grunted and tried to pick himself back up, but he stumbled and fell back onto his knees while leaning against the tree for support. Jack smirked and conjured up a thick blanket of snow on top of Jeff, leaving only his head poking out, then froze the top layer of snow into two-inch-thick ice.

Eyes blazing, Jeff thrashed and struggled against his cold restraint until his breathing was a hitched pant and what was left of his cheeks were flushed. He finally gave up and settled for glaring at Jack, his eye twitching occasionally.

Jack wasn't worried. The worst he could do -which he'd already done- was flatten the snow against the top layer of the dome-like ice cage, making it thicker, but he'd already done that.

They both stared at each other, at Jack with pure hatred and at Jeff with calm-faced disgust, for a few minutes, the only sound in the night being an occasional bird call and their heavy breathing. Jack, however, started to squirm under the silence and decided to brake it. "What happened to… yeah?" Jack asked bluntly, motioning to his own face but meaning Jeff's.

Jeff's eye twitched again. "What do you mean?" he growled, biting out each word like it hurt him to talk. "What do you think is wrong with my face?" He cocked his head and gave Jack his best smile.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. How was he supposed to respond to that? "Uh… Nevermind, it… it was a dumb question, anyway…" Jack mumbled, shaking his head.

"Was it?" Jeff asked, raising what would've been his eyebrow.

Jack glanced at Jeff, but looked away, deciding to look at anything but him. His face was starting to make him sick all over again. His gaze fell on the dark, velvet sky and crescent moon that seemed to be frowning on Jack's situation. With the feeling mutual, Jack sighed and sat down in the snow, propping an elbow on top of his raised knee. It looked like he didn't have a choice but to wait this all out until morning.

He looked up at Jamie's window, thinking. He assumed that if he had woken up, he'd probably fallen back asleep, being as he hadn't wandered outside to see what had happened yet. Thank God he was a heavy sleeper.

He turned his head back to Jeff, who was still staring at him with that awful smile. "You can't keep me here forever, you know," he smirked. "It's going to be a long night... but a shorter one for you..."

Jack's mouth lagged slightly and turned his head so Jeff couldn't see his facial expression, which was one of shock, horror, and little bit of something he couldn't place… Pity, maybe? Once he'd recomposed himself, he looked back to Jeff, who was still staring at him, but was muttering something softly to himself.

Jack sighed and ran a hand through his white hair. It was going to be a long night.

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**Okay, Peoples, I'm going to warn you now, the next chapter will be... more than slightly OOC... I promise you, I do try, but I don't exactly know how a psychotic thirteen year old thinks... Sorry, but I'm not quite there yet. And hey, if you want a perfect personality of Jeff the Killer on , then you need to realize you're kidding yourself. It's fanfiction. Get over yourself.**

**Until next time!**


	4. Doing The Dreaded Small Talk

******привет,** you guys! Guess what wonderful thing I found out on here, being that I'm still a newbie? Here it is: VIEWS. Holy cow, I can't tell you guys how happy I was just to see that 24 people had simply _looked_ at this! Yay! Okay, so... yeah. Thank you guys for that; it was needed.

**I'm going to warn you now, this chapter's pretty short... and slow in the story line, if I can even call it that. But something important: IF YOU HAVE NOT READ JEFF THE KILLER'S CREEPYPASTA, I SUGGEST YOU DO SO NOW. It's not that important, but I have and will reference to that, and unless you want to be lost on a few sentences, then read it. Again, not crazy important, but it's helpful. So... yay!**

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Jeff was beside himself with anger. He'd never been trapped like this before. Never. He felt like a caged animal, and in a way, he was. He could feel his fury balling up inside of him and trying to break out, like a pinball machine on crack.

He just focused his anger on that boy, _Jack_. He wasn't even sure if he was real or just another figment of his mind, but he knew that the ice keeping him trapped was one hundred percent real. So did that mean that when he glared into the blue eyes of that boy, was he really looking into the eyes of the winter spirit that'd brought snow days and fun to him and Liu?

Growling under his breath, Jeff shook his head. He didn't want to think about that; it would just make him even madder. He didn't want to let go of what little sanity he had left. Last time he did, the three people closest to him in the world died.

The only thing keeping him _him_ was to go through and think about all the ways he could hurt Jack.

"First, I'm gonna get my knife back and rip open your chest. Then I'm gonna use my hands and tear down into your flesh until I hit blue blood," he mumbled, smiling and twitching to himself all the while. "Once I make a big enough hole, I'll hang your body up on a tree and tear off your limbs, scattering them wherever I can hide them, but not before I dig out your heart and put it next to that brown-haired kid's pillow for him to find in the morning."

Jeff grinned to himself. Yes, that sounded good. He laughed out loud.

Jack sat up a little. "What, are you laughing at me?" he asked, rubbing the underside of his jaw. "What's so funny?"

Jeff stared at him for a moment, a little seam in the remnants of his mind snapping. Then, perfectly mimicking Keith's voice, he smiled at Jack. "What's funny," he chuckled, "Is that you're covered in bleach and alcohol."

Jack furrowed his brow. "What?"

Jeff stared for a minute, realizing what he'd said. "What?" he echoed, returning to his normal voice.

Jack blinked and shifted uncomfortably in his spot in the snow. Jeff, waving off his small 'mind snap', smiled to himself. He didn't know what it was about watching people squirm, but he liked it. He liked it a lot.

They sat in silence again for a few minutes, but Jeff didn't mind. He wasn't much for small talk, anyway, plus the sound of that Frost boy's voice just made him want to strangle him even more... Or, that was a little too simple, wasn't it? Maybe not _strangle _him, but death by fire. Yes, that worked. Lots and lots of fire.

Jeff's eyes had wandered to an abandoned bird's nest in the tree he was halfway leaning against and he was wondering if there was some way how to knock it down when Jack spoke again. "Where are you from?"

Jeff's bulging eyes snapped to Jack and he just stared, not saying a word.

Jack cleared his throat and tried again. "I asked, where are you from?"

"I heard you the first time."

"Well, you didn't respond, so I just…"

"You just what?" Jeff glared, smiling.

"I… Never mind."

A moment of silence passed before Jeff turned his head away from him. "Sacred Heart, Oklahoma," he muttered. Maybe if he answered that one question, he'd actually leave him alone.

"Wait, did you say Oklahoma?" Jack asked, and Jeff visibly drooped. So he wouldn't be able to suffer in silence with this kid. "And you made it here in two weeks?" Jack asked, shifting into a cross-legged position.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"No, it's just that… That's insane. I could've made here in maybe an hour or two, but… that's me. But you made it here on foot?"

Jeff only gave a slight nod.

Jack shook his head and sat back. "That's insane. You had to've not slept the entire two weeks and just… kept moving."

Jeff nodded again.

Jack blinked. "What? But… That's not healthy, you know."

Jeff looked Jack hard in the eye. "Do I _look_ healthy to you?"

Jack didn't answer, and Jeff went back to staring at the bird's nest. Jeff was lightly touching the bottom of the ice layer from behind him when he realized something. His fingers were wet. As a plan formed in his head, Jeff's grin grew bigger and he started to rub the ice as fast as he could without the Frost boy noticing.

He had to do something to keep Jack distracted though. He eyed the white-haired boy, who was forming snowflakes in his fingers, throwing them up into the air, and catching them again, only to repeat the process. He seemed preoccupied enough, but Jeff couldn't risk the chance of him just happening to look up and figure out what he was doing.

Jeff sighed. He would have to do the dreaded "small talk", just to keep attention on his face and away from his hands, but that wasn't exactly hard to do, considering that it _his_ face.

"How old are you?" Jeff asked suddenly, surprising Jack so much that he jumped.

"What? How old am I?" Jack repeated, and Jeff growled under his breath. He hated stupid people almost as much as he hated a broken knife.

Jeff nodded to answer, and Jack looked past Jeff's shoulder, probably thinking about it. Jeff felt a twinge of annoyance in the corner of his skull. It wasn't that hard to remember. Even after all the other stuff that had happened to him, Jeff still remembered his age. Easily, in fact.

"I'm probably around... three hundred and eighteen years old? I don't know. I think my birthday's coming up soon, though…" Jack mumbled, more to himself than Jeff.

Jeff just stared at him. He really wasn't expecting that. Jack didn't look any older than maybe twenty... Maybe his hair aged; that explained it being so white.

But wait. If he was over three hundred and still looked young… Was that dimwitted Frost boy immortal? Jeff's heart jumped at the thought. To be able to live forever… It would be a dream-come-true. He'd be able to do whatever he wanted without consequence. He'd be untouchable.

But that also meant that Jack probably couldn't be killed, if what he said was true. Great. The one person he actually _needs _to kill is unkillable. Just his luck. Now he hated _and_ was jealous of Jack.

Plus, he'd have to find another way to escape than just making a hole through the ice, breaking out, and fighting his way through. He may be able to disable him, but at the same time, could the spirit of winter even be knocked out? Even if Jeff were to just make a run for it, Jack could fly ten times faster than he could run.

Despite starting to hate the winter spirit on a whole new level, Jeff decided to play the 'interested' card. "Three hundred and what?" he exclaimed with false enthusiasm. "But how?"

Jack's chest puffed up a little, and Jeff rolled his eyes. He almost regretted starting a conversation with him, but he didn't. He'd almost made a hole in the ice.

Jack smiled, and Jeff despised him a little more, however much impossible it seemed, and said, "Well, that's what comes with being chosen by the moon."

Chosen by the moon? This guy was nuttier than him, and _that's_ saying something.

Jeff's confusion must've shown on his face because just then, Jack explained further. "It's, uh, like a bonus to being a Guardian… You know, the protectors of children."

Well, that went out the window. Jeff didn't do 'protecting'; he was the one people needed to be protected from, and he liked it that way.

Jeff looked back up at the bird's nest, still rubbing away at the ice. He'd managed a tiny hole, able to fit his finger through it, but he was getting cold. He couldn't feel his fingers and he was starting to shiver. He could bear through it though.

"How old are _you_?" Jack asked, returning the question, and Jeff inwardly flinched. He didn't like admitting how young he was.

Instead of answering Jack, Jeff, studying the nest, announced, "There's an empty bird's nest over here. I wonder where the birds went…"

Jack twisted his head so he could see the bundle of sticks. "Probably gone for the winter…" Jack mumbled.

Jeff looked back at Jack and cocked his head in an awkward angle. Smiling, he asked, "So does that mean they left their home because of you?"

Jack stared at Jeff and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, you're going to have to stop that," Jack growled.

The wind blew a little and Jeff shivered, but ignored it, and smiled. He was getting to him. Good. That was the first step to a mental breakdown. Maybe he could get someone else to share his pain. He entertained the thought, but decided against it. Sharing is caring, and Jeff didn't care.

"Stop what?" Jeff asked with as much innocence as he could muster.

"Stop doing… being… creepy! Just stop twisting up my words, and messing with my head, and… and…"

Jeff shrugged. "Sure. I can stop."

Jack visibly relaxed. "Okay… Good."

"... I didn't say I _would,_ though…"

Jack groaned and flopped on his back into the snow. "Lord, please give me strength…," he muttered.

Jeff smirked, but then sneezed, a line of snot dripping down from what used to be his nose. Jeff grimaced and craned his neck, wiping his face on the top of his sweat shirt. He needed to get out of there soon, or else he was going to freeze to…

Jeff sat up a little. Maybe he didn't have to finish his hole and make a run for it. He smiled inwardly, and began sneezing, and shivering, and groaning overdramatically. Some of it wasn't fake, but it worked, all the while.

As he'd hoped, this got Jack's attention pretty fast. "Hey, are you okay?" Jack asked, genuinely concerned about his health. Poor kid. If he was this gullible, how did he ever make it as a "Protector of Childhood"?

Jeff laughed bitterly. "No, no, I'm fine. It's perfectly normal to be covered in ice and snow for over an hour. Don't you worry about me, my balls are just freezing off."

Jack bit his lip, apparently torn about what to do. Jeff noticed that he'd picked up his Shepherd's Crook and was twisting it in his hands; Jeff figured it was a nervous habit, and Jeff smiled. He was nervous.

While Jack was deciding, Jeff made sure to throw in a few sneezes to help the vote.

He really was freezing, though. He didn't want to admit it, but even Jeff the Killer had his limits. The snow was seeping through his pants and sweat shirt, and though the biting cold didn't bother him very much at first, the not-so-frozen-anymore snow was now numbing his entire body, from his ankles to his neck.

Jack was still standing there with his head in his hands. What was he waiting for? Jeff sighed and decided to stop his act for a minute, when he realized that the shivering he was faking wouldn't stop.

Jeff growled, hating to come to reality with his epiphany. The dumb Frost boy had better let him out soon, or else he may actually kill the killer.

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**Okay, so again as I said, more of a filler chapter, but hey; I feel like it's going somewhere... sort of...**

**That's all for tonight, you guys. I apologize for the somewhat late update, but... it's Saturday... actually Sunday... but I was busy baby-sitting a six-year-old who hates me... for thirteen hours... Goody!**

**Alright, I love you all, and good morning.**


	5. Unintentional Sky Diving

**Hello to the inhabitants of Earth and beyond; how are you all this fine, late evening? I can personally tell you that my eyes are just about twenty pounds heavy right now so I'm going to try to make this quick... ish...**

**Sorry about the later update; yesterday and today were crazy with my little brother's baseball tournament, and guess what? I got sunburned how you would not believe! Woo hoo! Yay for Vitamin D! ... So yeah, that's why this was a little bit late... But hey! At least I made it within my weekend-only goal! ;-D**

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Jack ran a nervous hand through his hair, giving an occasional glance to the white, smiling face who now had snot running into his nonexistent lips. Jack grimaced. As if his face wasn't nasty enough…

Jack was torn; his brain verses his job. He knew Jeff was trying to trick him. No one actually said "achoo" when they sneezed, but Jack knew, being the entity of the cold itself, that his shivering was real. In hindsight, trapping him in ice probably wasn't the best idea.

Jack, twisting his staff in his hands, looked back to Jeff, who was just grinning at him, as if he knew he would break and let him out. Jack wasn't dumb though. He knew better than to even get close to Jeff; he'd noticed him rubbing on the ice almost a half hour ago.

But, then again, it was his job to protect children, and though Jeff didn't exactly say how old he was, he knew he couldn't be over eighteen, even though he acted like it… Well, not like a normal eighteen year old… More like an eighteen-year-old mental patient.

He gritted his teeth and looked down; he couldn't make any good decision with him staring at him like that. He groaned. He knew what he was going to end up doing, and he knew it wasn't smart whatsoever… He was going to have to brace himself.

Jack looked back up to Jeff's mutilated face, which now had tears running down it. Jack furrowed his brow. What was Jeff playing?

"J-Jack," he stuttered with a sniff, sounding more like someone he used to know than himself. "I'm scared."

Jack's eyes widened. There was no way he could possibly know… His shock was soon replaced with anger, and he stormed over to the ice pile, picking the up the sorry-excuse-for-a-child by the collar of his sweatshirt so hard that he broke the ice that was trapping him.

Jeff's eyes widened and Jack's face shone with unhidden fury. "You will never… _ever_… do that again. You hear me, _Jeff_? Never. Again," he snarled.

Jeff's shock turned into a smug smile. "Well, I feel like I should thank you, Jack," he said smoothly.

Jack studied him. "What are you talking about?" he growled.

Suddenly,a sharp and enormous pain exploded in his stomach, and his own eyes widened. He looked down and found Jeff's hand pull out a shard of ice he'd used to stab him.

Jack fell on his knees to the ground, coughing. He propped himself up with one hand and gripped his staff in the other, but he was in too much pain to use it. Red blood blossomed like a flower on his blue hoodie. He was wrong; Jeff _could _hurt him.

He looked up just in time to see Jeff pick up his knife he'd dropped in their earlier fight.

Jeff grinned and dropped to the ground next to Jack. He gave him another smile before driving his knife back into his stomach. Again. And again. And again, his blood splattering all over the place and speckling Jeff's white-faced grin. Jack had never been in so much pain.

"I should thank you," Jeff laughed, wiping Jack's blood from his face, "For sparing me from having to fight my way out of that ice. I'd almost had it, but… it's okay. You just finished it for me."

He laughed again, twisting the knife around in Jack's chest. Jack let out a cry of pain, and grit his teeth. He knew he wouldn't die from this -he couldn't even if he wanted to- but it'd take a while to heal, and time to get back up, too...

Jack realized then that Jeff's goal wasn't to kill him, but to make him unable to get back up.

Jack's face distorted with fury. "You sneaky Son of a…" Jack, summoning what little power he had, grabbed Jeff tightly around his waist and pushed them both into the air, higher and higher until they were over a hundred feet in the night sky.

Jeff's eyes were practically out of his head they were so wide and he scrambled to hold onto Jack rather than get away from him. "You… You… What are you doing? You wouldn't kill me…" Jeff growled nervously and Jack almost laughed. Who knew Jeff the Killer was scared of heights?

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Would I?" To prove his point, he let them drop fifteen feet, give or take. The heavying pain in his stomach was really wearing down his sudden burst of enthusiasm, however. He honestly wasn't sure how much longer he could hold the both of them, plus his staff. If he dropped that, they'd both go plummeting and there'd be nothing he could do about it. In perfect world… wait, how was this supposed to go again?

Jack grunted and made sure that his grip on Jeff was still good, but he realized that he was slipping a little. No. No no no no no, he would _not _be responsible for the death of Jeff… Jeffrey… Wait, Jeffrey Woods? That name sounded so familiar, and not because it was Jeff's. It was like that feeling… What was it called? Deja vu, that's right. And that's when it hit Jack like a punch to the face.

"I remember you," Jack mumbled, blinking.

"What?"

Jack looked down and met Jeff's bulging eyes. Holy crap, if he took away the black hair, white face, lidless eyes, and an evil grin and replaced them with brown hair, normal skin, blue eyes, and non-cut up mouth… Jack knew this kid. He just hadn't recognized him.

"You and your brother… Lui… You used to scream at me on snow days…" Jack laughed. "I always yelled back but... you never heard me…"

Jeff was silent and a dark thought pushed its way into Jack's mind. Jeff killed his entire family, so that meant… little Lui… "And he's dead," Jack realized, looking down at Jeff, pain etched on his face as much as it was on Jack's chest.

Anger flared up in Jack. "How could you?" he growled, catching Jeff by surprise. "You killed Lui Woods… He was... he was number two hundred seventy-one on North's Nice list… One of the nicest kids on the word… and you killed him…"

"Stop it," Jeff snarled with more anger in his voice than Jack thought a kid could have.

"You killed him," Jack continued, a lump forming in his throat over a kid he hadn't even officially met. "He was your brother! You killed your own brother... How… What had he ever done to you?"

"I SAID STOP IT!" Jeff screamed, slicing Jack's hand with the knife he'd never put down. Jack gasped and let go of Jeff, sending him spiraling out of the air and into a one hundred foot free-fall.

Jack, eyes wide, watched with horror as Jeff fell. No no no no! He tried to dive after him but he knew he'd never be able to catch up with him; he had to try, though. He dove into a pencil dive and fell after Jeff, who'd twisted himself into a belly-flop position.

Jack was getting so close, but not close enough. Jeff, in the last twenty feet to the ground, flipped himself upright, knees bent, and landed on his feet, but still fell with a sickening _thud _and tumbled until his back hit the tree him and Jack had fought in only hours ago. His body was limp.

Landing on the white snow without so much as a footprint, Jack rushed to Jeff's side. "Jeff! Are you okay?" he yelled, flinching when his voice broke.

Jeff didn't answer, but the huge gash on his arm spoke a thousand words.

Jack shook his head and pulled Jeff over onto his back, his wide eyes staring blankly past Jack's shoulder. Hesitating at first, Jack started shaking his shoulders, his head bobbing around like a doll's. "Jeff, come on. Say something."

Much to Jack's surprise, Jeff's lips moved a little, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. He leaned closer to his face. "What?" Jack asked.

Jeff's eyes suddenly cut to Jack and his hand flew up, grabbing Jack at the neck. "Idiot!" he screamed into his face, laughing insanely while his left eye twitched.

Jack clawed at Jeff's fingers, unable to pry them away. Jeff stood up and with his one hand, threw Jack up against the tree, pinning him there with his elbow. Then, using his knife, shoved it all the way through Jack's shoulder until he hit tree bark.

"You will never… _ever_... do that again! You hear me, _Lui?!_" Jeff yelled with Jack's voice, inches away from his pain-stricken face. "Never. Again."

Jack's face twisted. "Lui?"

Jeff paused, but then snarled, twisting the knife in Jack's shoulder. He let out a cry of pain, then bit down on his lower lip to stop it. It didn't hurt as much as should, though; his mind was becoming slightly muddled with what was happening. This was all too fast. Jack could barely comprehend what was going on.

Jeff pushed the knife deeper into the tree and stepped back, grinning like an artist who'd just hung up their prized painting. Jack struggled and twisted, trying to pull out the knife but his fingers kept slipping in his own blood. Jeff laughed as he watched Jack's failed attempts.

Jeff's face then dropped, his only smile being his permanent one. He then turned on his heel and started walking away towards the nearby woods, leaving Jack there against the tree.

"Jeff!" Jack yelled, pulling at the knife again. "Jeff! Don't you dare walk away!"

Without looking back, Jeff waved, calling over his shoulder, "Goodbye, Jack Frost. I'll remember our little meeting." He suddenly stopped and turned, a glimmer of a smile playing on his scarred lips. "Oh, and you can keep the knife," he added. "I'm sure I'll find another one later."

"Jeff! Come back here! Jeff!" Jack pulled again at the knife with all his strength, but his fingers slipped again. No, couldn't let a dangerous killer just walk away, even if he was just a kid. How could he have let him play him like that? He let his heart get in the way of his reason, and innocent people were going to pay for that. Jack pulled again, and failed, not even managing to get the knife to budge.

Jeff laughed and walked on until his not-so-white-anymore sweatshirt disappeared against the empty brush of the winter-stricken woods. Jack growled, still struggling and pushing against the tree he was trapped to.

It wasn't until morning, however, that Jack was able to get away from the tree when a horrified Jamie Bennett found him and helped him pull the knife out.

But Jeff was long gone by then.

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**And so ends my first story. Yay! ... Well, not really. I apologize for the crappy ending, but it's the best I could come up with. Sorry to be a disappointment :-/**

**However! There is a little bit of a bright side to this awful ending; because this was my first, I'm going to post a BONUS chapter, like, tomorrow night... Too tired to do it tonight. I'll warn you, it has nothing to do with this plot line... but at the same time it does... Does that make sense?**

**Oh well. It should be up by tomorrow though, so stay tuned! For all of those who are taking exams this week, good luck on those and for those who've already taken them... I forgot to send my luck. Tough. **

**Love you guys!**


	6. BONUS Chapter

**Hey guys! Sorry for the late update. I had some trouble with my internet... But hey! Bonus chapter! Always fun, right? Okay, so a quick note before you read: if you still believe in the Tooth Fairy, Jack Frost, etc. I highly suggest you skip this. Sorry, but I don't feel like ruining any childhoods today, please and thank you.**

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A girl pushed down on the "period" key extra hard, her own grin stretching from ear to ear on her slightly chubby face. That's it. She was done with her first, completed fan fiction. She squealed and did a little happy dance at her desk. She'd never, _ever,_ finished one before. Oh, sure, she had over thirty saved under "Stories" on her laptop, but all of them weren't even to the middle of their plots yet… That was kind of pathetic, wasn't it?

The girl yawned and ran a hand through her short, brown hair, adjusting her glasses on her nose so she could get a better look at her new masterpiece… Well, maybe not a _masterpiece_ because it was probably pretty bad, but it was a masterpiece in _her eyes, _at least.

She checked the clock on my laptop: 11:28. It wasn't awful, but it wasn't a great time for a school night, especially since she'd stayed up until two yesterday typing on it.

She started to get up from her desk when she flinches at a sudden memory; she was supposed to finish carving that printmaking stamp tonight… She'd even borrowed her art teacher's sharp, printmaking tool because she didn't have one at her house.

Oh well. She might as well do it now while she was still up. She turned off the light and shuffled into her room in the darkness. The familiar feeling of chills crawling down her spine made her shiver. The girl really needed to lay off the Creepypastas. She'd gone to bed every night this week with the feeling that someone was watching her… Dumb, freaking Laughing Jack photos…

Her feet walk over the dirty clothes that litter her room's floor and she knows she's made it. She goes for the light switch and flips it on, but something roughly grabs her arms and a sharp pain is holding itself at her throat. "Don't move," a hoarse voice whispers into her ear.

She immediately tenses up, and her stomach drops almost to her toes. Her mouth opens and a little squeak comes out. Wh-what was going on?!

The girl's eyes dart wildly around her room until they land on her mirror, and she almost starts crying. A thick arm was holding her printmaking tool's blade at the bottom of her jaw/top of her neck, but that wasn't the part that scared her. She was just able to make out half of her captor's face, and she had to close her eyes. She couldn't stare anymore, his face forever branded in her brain.

He was tall; taller than her –given, she was a short girl-, but that wasn't really what caught her attention. His pale face had scars criss-crossing themselves everywhere and his eyes were wide and red rimmed, looking irritated and about ready to pop out of their sockets. The worst part, however, was his mouth, which had a long, red, jagged scar stretching from corner of it, just like… just like…

Her eyes widen even more. "Jeff the Killer…" she mutters. B-but… he didn't actually exist, right? Just a story… a story made up to scare people...

The man pushed the blade harder into her throat and she whimpered, tears brimming her eyes. She'd actually thought she had a crush on this guy for the longest time… Why… What was _wrong_ with her?

A thought crosses the girl's mind and a tear escapes her restraint and slides down her reddening cheek. "M-my family…"

The corner of his mouth pulls up a little more. "Don't worry about them," he whispered, bringing his face close to her's. "They're just sleeping."

A sob echoes out of her mouth. She's fan-girled enough to know what that really meant.

"I read a little bit of your story while I was standing over your shoulder," he muttered, tightening his hold on me. "There's one little problem though… It's not realistic. One of your main characters isn't real…"

He pushes the tool hard into the bottom of her jaw, tearing skin and flesh until piercing the roof of her mouth. The pain explodes like an enormous bee sting under her face, and her stomach flips at the realization that the warm feeling running down her chest was her own blood… And that this was probably… probably her last… her l-last…

"…You should know better than to believe in Jack Frost," he laughed, and thrusts the blade through the rest of her skull.

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**Okay! So what'd you guys think? I'd love to hear your opinion in the reviews. Seriously. I know people are reading this, or at least looking at it, but where are you? Come on. Silence hurts. Really.**

**Also, other than a few one-shots or short stories here and there, you probably won't be hearing from me for a while, but who knows? Summer's coming up. Great time to kill some time.**

**Until next time, folks!**

*****Okay, so I'm updating this because of an issue I'd like to discuss... I don't if any of you have heard about the girls from Wisconsin, but as for the jist of the story, two girls brought there friend into the woods at night and stabbed her 19 times as a sacrifice to Slenderman to become proxies... You can look it up of you want details, but yeah, no. I promise I didn't make this up, but for some reason, this really rattled me. There's no denying that I'm a major fan girl to Pokemon, Disney, and of course, Creepypasta, but these girls are 12, if convicted serving 60 years in prison... Too young, you guys, too young... Just... no matter how much you may like something, please don't go and make sacrifices to it. I know, everyone loves Pinkie Pie, but it's not worth your life... Keep your feet grounded, you guys. Love ya*****


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